Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, shesaid, she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she hadfound her uncle unconscious. No doubt the pair had had aninterview and all that. But she believed the minister himself hadcome to his senses and had dismissed the brazen creature. She didnot blame Mr. Ellery so much. He was a young man, with a kindheart, and no doubt the "Van Horne person" had worked upon hissympathies and had taken advantage of his inexperience of femininewiles.

"I think, pa," she said, "that it's our duty, yours and mine, totreat him just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know,and we will keep the secret. And, as Christians, we should forgetand forgive. We'll invite him here as we always have, keep himunder our good influence, and be very kind to him, poor innocent.As for Captain Hammond, I'm sorry for him, knowing the kind of wifehe is going to have, but no doubt Come-Outers are not particular."

Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprisedgreatly. When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, hedropped the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced upon it.

"'Bishy," said Miss Pepper, "what do you s'pose has happened downto the Hammond tavern?"

"Oh, I know that," was the reply. "I heard that long ago; Cap'nEben's dead."

"'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't besuch a ninny. Why, I told you myself."

"Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a milliontimes, if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck whenyou've got your Sunday clothes on. And there you be this minutewithout a sign of a napkin."

"Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I--"

"Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't gotit? Now where is it?"

Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on thetable, and finally under it.

"I don't understand," he stammered, "where that napkin can be. I'mjust as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it.What do you s'pose I done with it?"

Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fishball descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the "Sunday suit."Lavinia flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiledwaistcoat was industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process wasaccompanied by a lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid littleattention.

"Why, nothin'. Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin'suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--"

"Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs," was thesharp answer. "I ain't got any patience with folks that's alwaystalkin' about their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out andstand alongside the cook stove till that wet place dries. Don'tyou move till 'TIS dry, neither."

So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of livingclotheshorse, beside the hot range. But during the drying processhe rubbed his forehead many times. Remembering what he had seen inthe grove he could not understand; but he also remembered, evenmore vividly, what Keziah Coffin had promised to do if he everbreathed a word. And he vowed again that that word should not bebreathed.

The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with asubject of conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewingcircle and at the store and after prayer meeting, both at theRegular meeting house and the Come-Outer chapel, speculationcentered on the marriage of Nat and Grace. When was it to takeplace? Would the couple live at the old house and "keep packettavern" or would the captain go to sea again, taking his bride withhim? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by thespeculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because noneknew except those most interested, and the latter would not tell.

John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, incompany with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in atthese gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard themat church, before and after the morning service, and when he madepastoral calls. People even asked his opinion, and when he changedthe subject inferred, some of them, that he did not care about thedoings of Come-Outers. Then they switched to inquiries concerninghis health.

"There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and ithotter'n furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tellme! 'Tain't your mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin'thin. My husband had a spell just like it a year or two afore hedied, and the doctor said he needed rest and a change. Said he'dought to go away somewheres by himself. I put my foot down on THATin a hurry. 'The idea!' I says. 'You, a sick man, goin' off allalone by yourself to die of lonesomeness. If you go, I go withyou.' So him and me went up to Boston and it rained the whole weekwe was there, and we set in a little box of a hotel room with awindow that looked out at a brick wall, and set and set and set,and that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but henever cheered. I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'dstop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meantno. Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' fouror five times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believedhe was gettin' deef. 'Lordy!' he says, ' I wish I was!' Well,that was enough for ME. Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give outwe'd better be home.' So home we come. And that's all the goodchange and rest done HIM. Hey? What did you say, Mr. Ellery?"

"Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers."

"Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. Ifiggered out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was goodfor that. My great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth,she was a great hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receiptfor thickenin' the blood that was somethin' wonderful. It had morekind of healin' herbs in it than you could shake a stick at. Icooked a kittleful and got him to take a dose four times a day. Hemade more fuss than a young one about takin' it. Said it tastedlike the Evil One, and such profane talk, and that it stuck to hismouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I never let up amite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. Now I'vegot that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of thatmedicine for you. I'll fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will.I'm agoin' to, so you needn't say no. And perhaps I'll have heardsomethin' about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time."

She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on herdeparture, handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just aspromptly.

"What did I do with it?" repeated the housekeeper. "Well, I'lltell you. I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I tooka teaspoonful. I did intend to pour the rest of it out in thehenyard, but after that taste I had too much regard for the hens.So I carried it way down to the pond and threw it in, jug and all.B-r-r-r! Of all the messes that--I used to wonder what made JoshRogers go moonin' round makin' his lips go as if he was crazy. Ithought he was talkin' to himself, but now I know better, he wasTASTIN'. B-r-r-r!"

Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her theminister would have broken down. Time and time again he wastempted to give up, in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, buther pluck and courage made him ashamed of himself and he stayed tofight it out. She watched him and tended him and "babied" him asif he was a spoiled child, pretending to laugh at herself for doingit and at him for permitting it. She cooked the dishes he likedbest, she mended his clothes, she acted as a buffer between him andcallers who came at inopportune times. She was cheerful alwayswhen he was about, and no one would have surmised that she had asorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and she knew he knew, so theaffection and mutual esteem between the two deepened. He calledher "Aunt Keziah" at her request and she continued to call him"John." This was in private, of course; in public he was "Mr.Ellery" and she "Mrs. Coffin."

In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs.Poundberry and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no onesave themselves knew what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough,Ellery was the first outsider to learn these plans and that fromNat himself.

He met the captain at the corner of the "Turnoff" one day late inAugust. He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfullyaware that it was not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, butcrossed the road and held out his hand.

"How are you, Mr. Ellery?" he said. "I haven't run across you forsometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather underthe weather."

Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he hadnot met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressedhis sympathy. His words were perfunctory and his manner cold. Hisreason told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to bepitied, if Keziah's tale was true. Yet it is hard to pity the onewho is to marry the girl you love. Reason has little to do withsuch matters.

"Well, Mr. Ellery," said Captain Nat, "I won't keep you. I seeyou're in a hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and saygood-by. Don't know's I'll see you again afore I sail."

"Before you sail? You--you are going away?"

"Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but Iwouldn't leave home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone,I've got to be gettin' back on salt water again. My ship's beendrydocked and overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' forManila. It's a long vy'age, even if I come back direct, whichain't likely. So I may not see the old town again for a couple ofyears. Take care of yourself, won't you? Good men, especiallyministers, are scurse, and from what I hear about you I cal'lateTrumet needs you."

"When are you going?"

"Last of next week, most likely."

"Will you--shall you go alone? Are you to be--to be--"

"Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreedit's best to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead sucha little while, and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow.She'll stay in the old house with Hannah, and I've fixed things soshe'll be provided for while I'm gone. I left it pretty much toher. If she'd thought it best for us to marry now, I cal'late Ishould have--have--well, done what she wanted. But she didn't.Ah, hum!" he added with a sigh; "she's a good girl, a mighty goodgirl. Well, so long and good luck."

"That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you wantto. Tell her I wished her all the luck there was. And--and--justsay that there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that,will you?--her FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand;it's a--a sort of joke between us."

"Very good, captain; I'll tell her."

"Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'mgone. Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me areold chums, in a way, you see."

"Yes. I'll tell her that, too."

"And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long."

They shook hands and parted.

Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of CaptainNat's sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was muchwonderment at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict wasthat Captain Eben's recent death and the proper respect due to itfurnished sufficient excuse. Hannah Poundberry, delighted at beingso close to the center of interest, talked and talked, and thusGrace was spared the interviews which would have been a trouble toher. Nat left town, via the packet, on the following Wednesday.Within another week came the news that his ship, the Sea Mist, hadsailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her topsails sank beneaththe horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste of tumbling wavesand out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, manned andofficered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of her andher commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only atthe old home by the landing and at the parsonage were theyremembered.

CHAPTER XV

IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT

Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--JohnEllery's first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bayfilled with ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settleddown to hibernate until spring. The stage came through on itsregular trips, except when snow or slush rendered the roadsimpassable, but passengers were very few. Occasionally there werenortheast gales, with shrieking winds, driving gusts of sleet andhail and a surf along the ocean side that bellowed and roared andtore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing away shoals andbuilding others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet where thefish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yardsfarther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner,the crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to thedories, and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthestbar and was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while thetownspeople stood helplessly watching from the shore, for launchinga boat in that surf was impossible.

The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disasterhad been brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, andEllery and most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped thethree miles to the beach, facing the screaming wind and the cuttingblasts of flying sand. As they came over the dunes there weretimes when they had to dig their heels into the ground and bendforward to stand against the freezing gale. And, as they drewnearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever louder, until theysaw the white clouds of spray leap high above the crazily tossing,flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last knoll.

Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from awhirl of creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, atfirst glance. But occasionally, as the breakers drew back foranother cruel blow, they caught glimpses of the tilted deck,smashed bare of houses and rail.

"Those black things on the masts?" asked Ellery, bending to screamthe question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. "Arethey--it can't be possible that they're--"

"Men!" repeated the minister in horror. Men! Great God! and arewe to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why,it's barbarous! It's--"

Winslow seized his arm and pointed.

"Look!" he shouted. "Look at them! How much good would ourliftin' hands do against them?"

Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beachdry, sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattereddown the slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged topraveled by the wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up,sheer and green and mighty, curling over now and descending with ahammer blow that shook the land beneath their feet. And back of itreared another, and another, and another, an eighth of a mile ofwhirling, surging, terrific breakers, with a yelling hurricanewhipping them on.

It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap ofspray, a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for aninstant, then two of the masts went down. The other followedalmost at once. Then the watchers, most of them, went back to thevillage, saying little or nothing and dispersing silently to theirhomes.

During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeralservices, brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from thatwreck. The bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plaincoffins paid for by the board of selectmen, and buried in thecorner of the Regular cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by thesea in other years. It was a sad experience for him, but it was anexperience and tended to make him forget his own sorrow just alittle. Or, if not to forget, at least to think of and sympathizemore keenly with the sorrows of others. Somewhere, in England orIreland or scattered over the wide world, there were women andchildren waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for news of theirsafe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned thisthought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and saidyes, they "presumed likely." As Captain Zeb put it, "Most sailorsare fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't anyexception." It was no new thought to him or to any other dwellerin that region. It was almost a fixed certainty that, if you wentto sea long enough, you were bound to be wrecked sometime or other.The chances were that, with ordinary luck and good management, youwould escape with your life. Luck, good or bad, was the risk ofthe trade; good management was expected, as a matter of course.

Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when theminister met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoidan interview.

"Well, Abishai," asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, "how areyou getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?"

"No, sir, she ain't," replied Kyan. "Laviny, she's sort ofdiff'rent lately. She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as sheused to be. I can get out once in a while by myself nowadays, whenshe wants to write a letter or somethin'."

"Oh, she's writing letters, is she?"

"Um--hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know whothey're to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got acousin out West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well andhas got a turrible lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' thatLaviny's writin' to him. We're about his only relations that'sleft alive and--and so--"

"I see." The minister smiled.

"Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye towind'ard is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas--that's hisname--'cause he married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower mannow, so I s'pose she feels better toward him. She's talkin' ofgoin' up to Sandwich pretty soon."

"She IS? Alone?"

"So she says."

"To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised."

"Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs achange and there's church conference up there, you know, and shefiggers that she ain't been to conference she don't know when. Is'pose you'll go, won't you, Mr. Ellery?"

"Probably."

"Um--hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind oflonesome round home without her."

Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai'sdream of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart agood joke and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage.The housekeeper was greatly surprised.

"Well! well! well!" she exclaimed. "Miracles'll never cease. Idon't wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but herdarin' to go and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, everytime she's had a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave'Bish behind to be kidnaped by some woman. Kyan himself was sickonce, and the story was that his sister set side of the bed nightand day and read him over and over again that chapter in the Biblethat says there's no marryin' or givin' in marriage in heaven. Dr.Parker told me that he didn't believe 'Bish got ha'f the comfortout of that passage that she did. And now she's goin' to Sandwichand leave him. I can't think it's true."

But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate andwent, in company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, tothe conference. She was a faithful attendant at the meetings andseemed to be having a very good time. She introduced the ministerto one Caleb Pratt, a resident of Sandwich, whom she said she hadknown ever since she was a girl.

"Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard aforein my life. 'Twas grand."

Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoesin Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared,and the minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he hadmoney in the bank.

The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, notfrom choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it.Miss Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did. As they droveby the Corners the minister, who had been replying absently toAnnabel's questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of asentence. His companion, leaning forward to look out of thewindow, saw Grace Van Horne entering the store. For an instantAnnabel's face wore a very unpleasant expression. Then she smiledand said, in her sweetest manner:

"Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime.How old she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her.Well, she'll be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back.They perfectly worship each other, those two. They say she writeshim the longest letters. Hannah Poundberry told me. Hannah's aqueer creature and common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery.However, you're not interested in Come-Outers, are you? Ha, ha!"

Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told whatit was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was tryingso hard to forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was sopainful--and so useless--to remember?

Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speakingof Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Evenin those days, when there were no cables and the telegraph wasstill something of a novelty, word of his arrival should havereached Trumet months before this. But it had not come, and didnot. Before the summer was over, the wise heads of the retiredskippers were shaking dubiously. Something had happened to the SeaMist, something serious.

As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel,this belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel,where Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for theson of their former leader. These prayers were not as fervent asthey might have been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings wascausing much comment and a good deal of resentment. She cameoccasionally, but not often. "I always said she was stuck-up andthought she was too good for the rest of us," remarked "Sukey B."spitefully. "'And, between you and me, pa says he thinks NatHammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a bitspirituous and never experienced religion. If anything HAShappened to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks."

Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said littleconcerning the topic of which all the village was talking, and JohnEllery forebore to mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful asever in the performance of her household duties, but her smile hadgone and she was worn and anxious. The minister longed to expresshis sympathy, but Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months,not since he, Ellery, gave her the message intrusted to him by thecaptain before sailing. He would have liked to ask about Grace,for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the Hammond home occasionally, butthis, too, he hesitated to do. He heard from others that the girlwas bearing the suspense bravely, that she refused to give up hope,and was winning the respect of all the thinking class in Trumet byher courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of the Regulars,Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had come tospeak highly of her. "She's a spunky girl," declared Captain Zeb,with emphasis. "There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby abouther. She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's aliveto come back and marry her. He was a durn good feller, too--savin'your presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-OuterI'd say the same thing. I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap.As good a seaman as he was would have fetched port afore this if hewas atop of water. As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, everyinch of her. My old girl went down t'other day to call on her andthat's the fust Come-Outer she's been to see sence there was any.Why don't you go see her, too, Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcomechange from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. Go ahead! it would be theAlmighty's own work and the society'd stand back of you, all themthat's wuth considerin', anyhow."

This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and wasindicative of the changed feeling in the community, but theminister, of course, could not take it. He had plunged headlonginto his church work, hoping that it and time would dull the painof his terrible shock and disappointment. It had been dulledsomewhat, but it was still there, and every mention of her namerevived it.

One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboringwith his next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair.She had been out and still wore her bonnet and shawl.

Ellery laid down his pen. "Never too busy to talk with you, AuntKeziah," he observed. "What is it?"

"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?"

"No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under theweather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. Shethinks the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when shewas distressed about her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hardtime of it."

"I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me ofit."

"Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd beenbusy fussin' with the fair and the like of that."

"That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?"

"No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didamasaid she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a littlecold, or somethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have hadher buried by this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead ofanybody else's. I ain't been up there, but I met her t'othermornin'."

"Didama?"

"No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace."

"Oh."

"Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--sincethis new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, Ipresume likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they sayaround town about--about HIM?"

"Captain Hammond?"

"Yes."

The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer.

"I see," she said slowly. "Do they all feel that way?"

"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardlysay that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it inmy hearing the other day and they agreed that there was still achance."

"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?"

"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was thepossibility that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't beenpicked up. They cited several such cases. The South Pacific isfull of islands where vessels seldom touch, and he and his crew maybe on one of these."

"Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!"

She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his handon her arm.

"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry. I respected CaptainHammond, in spite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried torealize that he was not to blame. He was a good man and I haven'tforgotten that he saved my life that morning on the flats. And I'mso sorry for YOU."

She did not look at him.

"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd betterget another housekeeper."

"What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?"

"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as ifthere was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiledfaintly, "as if 'twas sort of catchin', as you might say.Everybody I ever cared for has had somethin' happen to 'em. Mybrother died; my--the man I married went to the dogs; then you andGrace had to be miserable and I had to help make you so; I sent Nataway and he blamed me and--"

"No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't."

"Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'dbeen in his place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--on this earth, anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave youafore I spoil your life."

"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here.If I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you evertalk of leaving me again."

"Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had anotherletter t'other day."

"You did? From--from that man?"

"Yup, from--" For a moment it seemed as if she were about topronounce her husband's name, something she had never done in hispresence; but if she thought of it, she changed her mind.

"From him," she said. "He wanted money, of course; he always does.But that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in ithe wrote that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessedhe'd be for comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up.Said what was the use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn'tgive her husband a home."

"The scoundrel!"

"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's whyI spoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sureas death."

"No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No poweron earth can compel you to longer support such a--"

"None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put upwith it. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spitethe--the other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden.But I tell you this, John: if he comes here, to this town, whereI've been respected and considered a decent woman, if he comeshere, I go--somewhere, anywhere that'll be out of the sight of themthat know me. And wherever I go he shan't be with me. THAT Iwon't stand! I'd rather die, and I hope I do. Don't talk to meany more now--don't! I can't stand it."

She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed throughthe dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again.

"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in onyou just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd liketo know and wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. Shethought the world of Nat, even though she might not have loved himin the way that--"

"What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?"

"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother toher and she cared a lot for him."

"But you said she didn't love him."

"Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears itwell and I don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for hersake, and I try not to show her how I feel."

She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said:

"She's goin' away, Gracie is."

"Going away?"

"Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over inConnecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here athome with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tonguedroppin' lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enoughto kill a healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. Shedidn't want to go; felt that she must stay here and wait for news;but I told her we'd get news to her as soon as it come, and she'sgoin'."

Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot wason the step when Keziah spoke again.

"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-hearted as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'mostevery time I've been there. She told me to take good care of you."

The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as theminister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the windowand looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistakein mentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with thethought that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least,pitied; but perhaps it would have been better to have remainedsilent. Her gaze shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue andwhite in the sun and wind. When she was a girl the sea had beenkind to her, it had brought her father home safe, and thosehomecomings were her pleasantest memories. But she now hated it.It was cruel and cold and wicked. It had taken the man she lovedand would have loved till she died, even though he could never havebeen hers, and she had given him to another; it had taken him,killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to herthe one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she couldnot think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash andprayed aloud.

"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now. Icouldn't stand it! I couldn't!"

Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road onhis way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselvesover and over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had notforgotten him altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean bysaying that she had not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--Not that it could make any difference. Nothing could give him backhis happiness. But what did it mean?

Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the bigarmchair with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at eachside of her head. She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt whichwas a patchwork glory of red and crimson. A young girl, aneighbor, who was apparently acting in the dual capacity of nurseand housekeeper, admitted him to the old lady's presence.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Then you ain't forgot mealtogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for notgettin' up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, agood sight. Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had todo was set still and take his medicine. I told him that either theaches or the medicine made settin' still serious enough, and whenyour only amusement is listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girlthat's takin' care of me--when your only fun is listenin' toEmeline drop your best dishes in the kitchen sink, it's pretty nightragic. There! there! don't mind an old woman, Mr. Ellery. Setdown and let's talk. It's a comfort to be able to say somethin'besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up all thepieces!'"

Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Herconversation soon shifted to the loss of her son and she wept,using the corner of the quilt to wipe away her tears. "Eddie" hadbeen her idol and, as she said, it was hard to believe what folkskept tellin' her, that it was God's will, and therefore all for thebest.

"That's so easy to say," she sobbed. "Maybe it is best for theLord, but how about me? I needed him more than they did up there,or I think I did. O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, butWHY was it all for the best?"

Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried,but the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him.

"And there's Nat Hammond," continued Mrs. Prince. "A fine man--nobetter anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--justgoin' to be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why? Whywas that necessary?"

Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to doso. The mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of otherthings.

"Poor Gracie!" she said. "It's turrible hard on her. I went downto see her two or three times afore I was took with this backache.She's an awful nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't youthink so? Hey? don't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me.Hannah Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. Idon't care about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr.Ellery. And there's Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a'mercy! what has an old woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to beproud over? Yes, she told Hannah she was comin', and the Berryfolks thought it might be to-day. So I've been watchin' for her.What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?"

"I think I must, Mrs. Prince."

"Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'dlike for you to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awfullot, and there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' aReg'lar. Oh, yes, you might. You've got the most persuadin' way,everybody says so. And you don't know her very well, do you? Landsakes alive! talk about angels! I snum if she ain't comin' up theroad this blessed minute."

John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastilytoward the door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he wouldnot. However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before hereached the yard gate Grace was opening it. They were face to facefor the first time since they had parted in the grove, so manymonths before.

She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietlyin black. She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path,and her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside andraised his hat.

She bowed gravely and murmured a "Good afternoon." Then she passedon up the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant andthen stepped quickly after her. The black gown and the tired lookin her eyes touched him to the heart. He could not let her gowithout a word.

"I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well,but I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hopethat--that--it is not so serious as they fear."

"Thank you," she said again. "We are all hoping."

"Yes. I--I--" It was dreadfully hard to get words together. "Ihave heard so much of the captain from--"

"From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend."

"I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope youmay hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him-- Iwant you to understand that I shall."

The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold.

"Come right in, Grace," she called. "Mrs. Prince wants you to.She's ahollerin' for you to hurry up."

"Good-by," said the minister.

"Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this."

"No, no. I mean it."

"I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by."

She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his wastrembling, but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Graceentered the house and John Ellery went out at the gate.

That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but findingit hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing backand forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She lookedat the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed.Her well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all.She should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name.

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE

"Hey, Mr. Ellery!"

It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in hisantique chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailingthe parsonage through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both hisbig hands before his mouth. The reins he had tucked between theedge of the dashboard and the whip socket. If he had thrown themon the ground he would still have been perfectly safe, with thathorse.

"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands.

The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regularchurch, was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forthinto the crisp March air.

The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand,had emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now camehurrying down to the gate.

"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell meyou ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why,we're thinkin' about dinner up to our house."

Keziah answered. "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder. Your wifetells me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinneris when you think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry herethat we get up to eat in the middle of the night. What's thematter? Hettie Peters is hollerin' at you; did you know it?"

"Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away,'less I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do hergood and keep her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr.Ellery, I tell you: Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped upto our house a few minutes ago. He's just come down from theshanties over on the shore by the light--where the wreck was, youknow--and he says there's a 'morphrodite brig anchored three orfour mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast and union down.They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to her and seewhat's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe you'dlike to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that Ithought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said mylikin' to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign thatI was hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way itought to be encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery?Want to go?"

The minister hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "I'd like to verymuch. But I ought to work on my sermon this morning."

Keziah cut in here. "Cat's foot!" she sniffed. "Let your sermongo for this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you canbegin again when you've got to the end and preach it over again.Didama Rogers said, last circle day, that she could set still andhear you preach right over n' over. I'd give her a chance,'specially if it did keep her still. Keepin' Didama still is goodChristian work, ain't it, Zeb?"

"Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW'twould be work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat,Mr. Ellery. I'll step across and ease Hettie's mind and--andlungs."

She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel indistress to the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister,having donned his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed intothe chaise beside Captain Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into acreaky jog trot by repeated slappings of the reins and roars to"Get under way!" and "Cast off!" moved along the sandy lane.

During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed varioustopics of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and themanner in which he might have lost his ship and his life. It wasnow taken for granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was deadand would never be heard from again. The owners had given up, soCaptain Zeb said, and went on to enumerate the various accidentswhich might have happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and evenattacks by Malay pirates--though, added the captain, "Gen'rallyspeakin', I'd ruther not bet on any pirate gettin' away with NatHammond's ship, if the skipper was alive and healthy. Then there'smutiny and fevers and collisions, and land knows what all. And,speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late ails that craft we'regoin' to look at now?"

They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. Afew fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and thelightkeeper were gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They hada spyglass, and a good-sized dory was ready for launching.

"Where is she, Noah?" asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. "Thather off back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through thatglass; my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whalespout two miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how manybarrels of ile he'd try out, fust look. Takes practice to keepyour eyesight so's you can see round a curve like that," he added,winking at Ellery.

"She's a brigantine, Zeb," observed the keeper, handing up thespyglass. "And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might beone of them salt boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin'out there, anchored, with canvas lowered and showin' distresssignals in fair weather like this, is more'n any of us can makeout. She wa'n't there last evenin', though, and she is there now."

"She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther,"announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. "Charlie Burgessjust come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauledup on the beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth ofthe herrin' crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't noboat that b'longs round here, is she, Charlie?"

"No, Thoph, she ain't," was the reply. "Make anything out of her,cap'n?"

Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel throughthe spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. "Not much,"he answered. "Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can'tsee a sign of life aboard her."

"We couldn't neither," said Thoph. "We was just cal'latin' to gooff to her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. Iguess likely we can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond.You'll take an oar, won't you, Noah?"

"I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to thevillage last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too,Zeb?"

"No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keepmy feet dry afore I left the house."

"You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room."

The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for himand the mystery of the strange ship was appealing.

"Sure I won't be in the way?"

"No, no! 'course you won't," said Burgess. "Come right along. Youset in the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in awhile. I'll steer and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enoughfor one dory. If we need more, we'll signal. Heave ahead."

The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerousto Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease whichcomes of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and"Bill," the latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent theirbroad backs for the long pull. The statement concerning thepondlike smoothness of the sea was something of an exaggeration.The dory climbed wave after wave, long and green and oily, at thetop of each she poised, tipped and slid down the slope. Theminister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable cushion ofanchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over thecrests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess,holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was highabove him and he felt that he was reclining on the back of hisneck. But always the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in theshort, deep strokes of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, withthe white light and red-roofed house of the keeper, the groupbeside it, and Captain Zeb's horse and chaise, grew smaller andless distinct.

"Humph!" grunted Charlie.

"What's the matter?" asked Thoph.

The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they weregoing, scowled.

"Rubbish!" panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over hisshoulder. "'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft suchweather's this, and Province-town harbor only three hours' run orso?"

"When it comes to that," commented Burgess, "why should they anchoroff here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybodyaboard they ain't showed themselves yet. She might have beenleakin', but she don't look it. Sets up out of water pretty well.Well, we'll know in a few minutes. Hit her up, boys!"

The rowers "hit her up" and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess,putting his hand to his mouth, hailed.

Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgessnodded to them.

"Stand by!" he ordered. "Easy! Way enough! Let her run."

The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar,and slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery,looking up, saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head--the San Jose.

Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. Amoment later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand.The dory was brought alongside and made fast; then one after theother the men in the boat climbed to the brig's deck.

The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirtylikewise. The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope,was dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind shemade a lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky andbright sunshine.

Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and theypeered down.

"Phew!" sniffed Burgess. "She ain't no cologne bottle, is she?Well, come on below and let's see what'll we see."

The cabin was a "mess," as Bill expressed it. The floor wascovered with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, emptybottles, and papers. On the table a box stood, its hinged lidthrown back.

The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. Thelight which shone through the dirty and tightly closed "bull's-eye"window showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked.The smell was stifling.

"Say, fellers," whispered Thoph, "I don't like this much myself.I'm for gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin'shappened aboard this craft, somethin' serious."

Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative.

"Hadn't we better look about a little more?" asked Ellery."There's another stateroom there."

He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in aworse condition than the first. And the odor was even moreoverpowering.

"Skipper's room," observed Burgess, peeping in. "And that bunkain't been slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes.Phew! I'm fair sick to my stomach. Come out of this."

On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation.

"Queerest business ever I see," observed Charlie. "I never--"

"I see somethin' like it once," interrupted Bill. "Down in theGulf 'twas. I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad fromover to Bayport skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner,derelict, abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course.Yeller jack was the trouble aboard her and-- Where you bound,Thoph?"

"Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle," replied Theophilus,moving forward. The minister followed him.

The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peereddown. Here there was practically no light at all and the air wasfouler than that in the cabin.

"See anything, Mr. Ellery?" asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder.

"No, I don't see anything. But I thought--"

He seemed to be listening.

"What did you think?"

"Nothing. I--"

"Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. Notellin' what you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious.I'll stay up here and you can report."

He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across thedeck and joined him.

"Where's Charlie?" asked Thoph.

"Gone back to the cabin," was the answer. "Thought likely he mightfind some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. Itold him to heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too muchlike that yeller-jack schooner to suit me. What's become of theparson?"

Thoph pointed to the open hatch.

"Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle," he replied. "He can havethe job, for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck,anyhow?"

Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holdingon with both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustomhis eyes to the darkness.

A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floorstrewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds andends. More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the rollof the brig. A little window high up at the end, black with dirt.And cavities, bunks in rows, along the walls. A horrible hole.

He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head toavoid hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunkssomething stirred, something alive. He started violently,controlled himself with an effort, and stumbled toward the sound.

"What is it?" he whispered. "Who is it? Is anyone there?"

A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said:

"Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsakendevils give me a drink?"

He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into adreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face.

There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then moreyells and the sound of running feet.

"Mr. Ellery!" screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. "Mr. Ellery, forthe Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute.Quick!"

The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped tothe foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face.

"Mr. Ellery!" shrieked Burgess. "Mr. Ellery, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here," answered the minister, slowly. He was fightingwith all his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulsewas to leap up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into thedory and row, anywhere to get away from the horror of thatforecastle.

He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who werefrantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder.His head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck.He drew a breath to the very bottom of his lungs.

The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men bythe rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburnand their hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore.They were not cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough toknow that. Burgess had, that very winter, pulled a skiff throughbroken ice in the face of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an oldneighbor whose dory had been capsized in the bay while he washauling lobster pots. But now Burgess was as scared as the rest.

Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turnedand beckoned to Ellery.

"Come on!" he called. "What are you waitin' for?"

The minister remained where he was.

"Are you sure--" he faltered.

"Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for afortni't, but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two mendied of it three weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards.The mate-- No wonder them that was left run away as soon as theysighted land. Come on! Do you want to die, too?"

From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunkcalled once more.

"Water!" he screeched. "Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d--ncowards?"

"For Heaven sakes!" cried Burgess, clutching the rail, "what'sthat?"

Ellery answered him. "It's one of them," he said, and his voicesounded odd in his own ears. "It's one of the crew."

"One of the-- Down THERE? Has he--"

"Yes, he has."

"Help! help!" screamed the voice shrilly. "Are you goin' to leaveme to die all alone? He-elp!"

The minister turned. "Hush!" he called, in answer to the voice,"hush! I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess," he added, "youand the rest go ashore. I shall stay."

"You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon.Don't be a fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebodyelse--some one that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'mgoin'. Don't be a fool."

Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Elleryclimbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As heapproached, Burgess fell back a few feet.

"Thoph," said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, "thereis a sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there forhours, I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he isleft longer without help,, he will surely die. Some one must staywith him. You and the rest row ashore and get the doctor andwhoever else you can. I'll stay here till they come."

Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It wasfoolish, it was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. Theybegged the minister to come with them. But he was firm.

Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swungclear of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke.

"Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery," pleaded Charlie. "I hate toleave you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man withchildren, like the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks.Better come, too. No? Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'lllet us. By the Almighty!" he added, in a sudden burst, "you've gotmore spunk than I have--yes, or anybody I ever come across. I'llsay that for you, if you are a parson. Give way, fellers."

The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of thecreaking thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His kneesshook, and involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to hislips. But he choked it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then,not trusting himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turnedon his heel and walked toward the forecastle.

The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of thegalley. Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This hefilled from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned towardthe black hatchway. Here was the greatest test of his courage. Todescend that ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terriblecreature in it, these were the tasks he had set himself to do, butcould he?

Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom thatit now is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of whichstrikes panic to a community. The minister had been vaccinatedwhen he was a child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very longtime ago. And that forecastle was so saturated with the plaguethat to enter it meant almost certain infection. He had stayedaboard the brig because the pitiful call for help had made leavinga cowardly impossibility. Now, face to face, and in cold blood,with the alternative, it seemed neither so cowardly or impossible.The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; was there any goodreason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in that way?

He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood bythe hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper,Keziah Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, andher self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. "It'sthe duty that's been laid on me," Keziah had said, "and it's a hardone, but I don't run away from it." He began to descend theladder.

The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but thesound of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him tohimself. He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When atlast he desisted, the pan was half empty.

The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to thefoot of the ladder for breath. This made him think of thenecessity for air in the place and he remembered the little window.It was tightly closed and rusted fast. He went up to the deck,found a marlin spike, and, returning, broke the glass. A sharp,cold draught swept through the forecastle, stirring the garmentshanging on the nails.

An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose.Men, talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was oneof them; ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the othersin bringing the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet.

Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among thefirst.

"Mr. Ellery," he shouted, "where are you?"

The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastlecompanion. "Here I am, doctor," he said. "Will you come down?"

The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly acrossthe deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whalerfrom East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one.The others waited, with scared faces, by the rail.

"Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can," ordered Dr.Parker. "Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call."

The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him.Parker bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence.

The doctor nodded approvingly. "I guess so," he said. "It's badenough now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soonas we can or he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery," he addedsharply, "what made you do this? Don't you realize the risk you'verun?"

"Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk."

"Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't youlet some one else, some one we could spare-- Humph! Confound it,man! didn't you know any better? Weren't you afraid?"

His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves.

"Of course I was," he snapped irritably. "I'm not an idiot."

"Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't tohave done it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who inthunder I can get to stay with me in this case is more than I know.Just say smallpox to this town and it goes to pieces like a smashedegg. Old Eb Capen will help, for he's had it, but it needs morethan one."

"Where are you going to take--him?" pointing to the moaningoccupant of the bunk.

"To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are bedsthere, such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn itdown when the fuss is over."

"Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I knowthat. Let me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run therisk? I HAVE run it. I'll stay."

Dr. Parker looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Well! I mustsay, young man, that you've got-- Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery;I'm much obliged."

CHAPTER XVII

IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED

Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind thepoint by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and movedfarther up, for not a single one of their owners would trusthimself within a hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soonas the anchors were dropped, the volunteer crew was over side andaway, each of its members to receive a scolding from his family fortaking such a risk and to have his garments sulphur-smoked orburied. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was something of a Tartar,observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort 'round homenowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's 'twas thehereafter ahead of time."

The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself aquarter of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use asa pesthouse and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvisedstretcher. Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and,assisted by old Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and loweredhim into the dory. Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and therest of the journey was comparatively easy.

The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to thepatient, one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen andthe minister were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-heartedand sympathizing townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs,and the building was made as comfortable as it could be, under thecircumstances. Sign boards, warning strangers to keep away, wereerected, and in addition to them, the Trumet selectmen orderedropes stretched across the lane on both sides of the shanty. Butropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet in general was in a bluefunk and had no desire to approach within a mile of the locality.Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left the day's supplyof provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, yelled ahurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at arattling gallop.

The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every daybrought a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, awretched, panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, wereapprehended on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet onthe bay side, and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pendingshipment to the hospital at Boston. Their story was short butgrewsome. The brigantine was not a Turks Islands boat, but acoaster from Jamaica. She had sailed with a small cargo forSavannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its appearance onboard. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then anothersailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner,was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state ofdemoralization which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, couldnot overcome. Then followed days and nights of calm and terribleheat, of pestilence and all but mutiny. The mate himself died.There was no one left who understood navigation. At last came asoutheast gale and the San Jose drove before it. Fair weatherfound her abreast the Cape. The survivors ran her in after dark,anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The sick man whomthey had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had shipped atKingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left himbecause he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, theyknew some one would see the distress signals and investigate. Thatwas all, yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough?

This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "dailyadvertisers," but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared toMr. Ellery's astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of theRegular church, should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox,to help a stranger and a common sailor, was incomprehensible.Didama, at least, could not understand it, and said so. "My souland body!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands. "I wouldn't go nighmy own grandfather if he had the smallpox, let alone settin' upwith a strange critter that I didn't know from Adam's cat. And aminister doin' it! He ought to consider the congregation, if hedone nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a common water ratthat, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, like a ship'spoll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats ME!"

It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could notunderstand self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they themajority of Trumet's intelligent people, who understood andappreciated. Dr. Parker, a man with a reputation for dangerouslyliberal views concerning religious matters and an infrequentattendant at church, was enthusiastic and prodigal of praise.

"By George!" vowed the doctor. "That's MY kind of Christianity.That's the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery afterthis, first, last, and all the time. And if he don't get thesmallpox and die, and if he does live to preach in the Regularchurch, you'll see me in one of the front pews every Sunday.That's what I think of him. Everybody else ran away and I don'tblame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! he stayed.'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that youngfellow."

Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayocooked delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister'sconsumption. The parish committee, at a special session, voted anincrease of salary and ordered a weekly service of prayer for thesafe delivery of their young leader from danger. Even CaptainElkanah did not try to oppose the general opinion; "although Icannot but feel," he said, "that Mr. Ellery's course was rash andthat he should have considered us and our interest in his welfarebefore--"

"Dum it all!" roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet andinterrupting, "he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he asimportant TO himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else inthis meetin' house? Bah! don't let's have no more talk like thator I'll say somethin' that won't be fit to put in the minutes."

Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a"just punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of thePharisees," Thoph Black rose and defended Ellery.

Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by herparson's heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediatelyhad not Dr. Parker prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far asthe ropes, but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellerycame running out and bade her come no nearer.

"I am," confessed the minister, "and I'm not going to let anyone Icare for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to comein here I shall"--he smiled--"well, Capen and I will put you offthe premises by force. There!"

Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. "Maybe you'd have yourhands full," she said. "O John, what in the world made you do thisthing? It's dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. Ijust must come here and help."

"No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the--the dead line oncein a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all.I'm all right. Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'mnot going to be sick. Now go home and make me some of that--someof those puddings of yours. We can use them to advantage, can'twe, Capen?"

"Bet yer!" replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after moreexpostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings weremade and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote toGrace and told her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothingof the minister's part in it. "Poor thing!" sighed Keziah, "she'sbearin' enough already. Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe,and mine's most crackin'. Well, let it crack for good and all; Idon't know but that's the easiest way out."

The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and heraved and moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nursewhile Ellery slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger,went on watch. The doctor came frequently, but said there was nohope. A question of time only, and a short time, he said.

Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient.

"Do you know, parson," he said, "seem's if I'd seen the fellersomewheres afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to gowhalin' v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other,pretty nigh, and I MIGHT have met him. However, his own folkswouldn't know him now, would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin'foolish in my old age. Said his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breedsdid, didn't they? I know better'n that."

"How do you know?" asked Ellery, idly listening.

"'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, hesings out all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin',but there's times when he talks respectable and once I heard himsay 'darn' and another time 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman saysTHAT. That's Yankee, that is."

"Um--hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin'men. I've seen the time when I had more names-- Humph! Lookskind of squally off to the east'ard, don't it?"

That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings wereincessant. The minister, sitting in his chair in the living room,by the cook stove, could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths,and muttered fragments of dialogue with imaginary persons.Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, of course, and yet he, as wellas Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard enough to realize that theworld would be none the worse for losing this particular specimenof humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard life, amongthe roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, whoby his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimeddisgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed:"Phew! I feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me setout doors a spell and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, andthat critter's talk makes me want to give my brains a bath."

The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, tickedsteadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to seeif the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loudits ticking sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was noother sound in the house. He rose and looked in at the door of theadjoining room. The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quieton the bed.

The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, theman opened his eyes.

"Halloo!" he said faintly. "Who are you?"

Ellery, startled, made no answer.

"Who are you?" demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, herepeated the question, adding: "What place is this? This ain't thefo'castle. Where am I?"

"You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move."

"Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? Thed--n cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'emfor it one of these days, you hear--"

"Sshh!"

"Hush up yourself. Where am I?"

"You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet."

"Trumet! TRUMET!"

He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery wasobliged to use force to hold him down.

"Hush! hush!" pleaded the minister, "you mustn't try to--"

"Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who broughtme here? Did she-- Is she--"

He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left himsimultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout aname, a name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back fromthe bed, scarcely believing his ears.

All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered,but of people and places and happenings which he had not mentionedbefore. And the minister, listening intently to every word, caughthimself wondering if he also was not losing his mind.

When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake tofind John Ellery standing over him.

"Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up. I must talk withyou."

Ebenezer was indignant.

"Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller todeath, comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?" Then,being more wide awake, he added: "What's the row? Worse, is he?He ain't--"

"No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, Iknow. Were you acquainted in New Bedford?"

"Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it,pretty nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'emblindfold."

"Did you ever know anyone named--" He finished the sentence.

"Sure and sartin, I did. Why?"

"Did you know him well?"

"Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fastgoer, and went downhill like a young one's sled, when he gotstarted. His folks had money, that was the trouble with him. Why,'course I knew him! He married--"

"I know. Now, listen."

Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness.Ebenezer listened, at first silently, then breaking in withejaculations and grunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge ofthe bed.

"Rubbish!" he cried at last. "why, 'tain't possible! The feller'sdead as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--"

The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. Hisbreathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gentlymoved the bandage on his face. For a full minute he gazedsteadily. Then he stood erect, drew a big red hand across hisforehead, and moved slowly back to the living room.

"Well?" asked Ellery eagerly.

Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. "Judas priest!" he said for thethird time. "Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll haveto prove I'm dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-dasPRIEST!"

"Then you recognize him?"

The old man nodded solemnly.

"Yup," he said, "it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to doabout it?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself andthink. I don't know WHAT to do."

The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was nothungry. Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up hisduties as day nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The "deadline" prevented his going very far, but he sat down in the lee of ahigh dune and thought until his head ached. What should he do?What was best for him to do?

He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices ofEbenezer and Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remainedwhere he was, thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen callinghis name.

"Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer. "Mr. Ellery, where be you?"

"Here!" replied the minister.

The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and muchexcited.

"Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left andafter I gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queerthen. And when the doctor came we went in together and he wasdead. Yes, sir, dead."

"Dead!"

"Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery,what shall we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?"

Ellery considered for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, Capen,don't tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that hehasn't been dead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keepit a secret. I'll tell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; Itrust you."

"Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widowerman, so there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you'reright, cal'late you be. What folks don't know they can't lieabout, can they? and that's good for your business--meanin' nothin'disreverent. I'll promise, Mr. Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now comeon back to the shanty. The doctor wants you."

The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose,was buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those whowere drowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, ofcourse. The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that wasall. Ebenezer drove the wagon which was used as hearse for theoccasion, and filled in the grave himself. So great was the fearof the terrible smallpox that the sexton would not perform eventhat service for its victim.

Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the ministershowed no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insistedthat he needed no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up hisfishing once more. The old man was provided with a new suit ofclothes, those he had worn being burned, and having been, to hishuge disgust, fumigated until, as he said, he couldn't smellhimself without thinking of a match box, went away. The room whichthe dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed tight. The SanJose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, when alldanger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at auctionfor the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner.

Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should notgo back to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to waituntil he was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. "I'd be willingto bet that you are all right," declared the latter, "but I knowTrumet, and if I SHOULD let you go and you did develop even thetail end of a case of varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlastingclimax for you and me in this county."

Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The "dead line" stillremained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, butthey came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at arespectful distance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little therewas to do, but so many good things were pushed under the ropes thathe was in a fair way to develop weight and indigestion. CaptainZeb Mayo drove down at least twice a week and usually brought Mrs.Coffin with him. From them and from the doctor the prisonerlearned the village news. Once Captain Elkanah and Annabel came,and the young lady's gushing praise of the minister's "heroism"made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard of the San Jose.

Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village.She had come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was tolive at the tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even shehad given up hope of Captain Nat now.

"And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?"

"Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister. "I seem to berather tired and good for nothing. More so than I was during theworst of it."

"No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel somereaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But whatI want to know is whether you think I could leave you for a coupleof days? The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannisto-morrow and I had promised myself to take it in this year.